Partners
by DonJuan'73
Summary: It's a regular night in Gotham and two officers are on patrol.
1. Chapter 1

Officer John Blake sat in the passenger seat as he waited for his partner to return. In the parking lot he looked out the frosty car window to see his rookie partner pay for the coffee and sandwiches at the counter, he watched as the young cop smiled when she took her change and left a tip. In other, nicer cities this might've seemed like a regular occurrence. Not in this town.

Over a decade ago, panic took hold of Gotham. Fear literally filled the air that night all those years ago. He had been just a kid but he remembered it well, a dark moment in Gotham's history. Many people lost their lives and loved ones that night and people were still looking for answers years later, but there was no evidence left behind.

"They were out of ham so I got you salami instead. That okay?"

His thoughts about the past abruptly stopped as he saw his partner open the door while balancing a tray of coffee in one hand and a brown paper bag tucked under the other arm.

Gordon slid in after handing him the sandwiches, rubbing her hands together over the tray of coffee on her lap. It was a cold night.

"What took you so long?" He asked.

"The guy at the counter kept trying to give me money, he must be new. He probably thought I was some crook like those guys in the MCU." Gordon shrugged as she poured a generous sugar into her cup.

Blake had been a cop for a number of years now, it hadn't been a picnic. He was a good cop, he didn't mess with organized crime and he didn't take orders from some Godfather-tyrant-wannabe who owned half of Gotham. John kept his head down and conscience clean. It hadn't made him popular with his colleagues, and he had had to constantly watch his back as a rookie. But that was before his partner came along.

Gordon was a new cop, fresh out of college. He hadn't been looking forward to working with her; he had expected some stuck up kid with a degree and a death wish. But his assumptions had been wrong.

Barbara Gordon was an over-achieving scholarship kid who would've went far in Gotham if she had been brought up with looser morals. But her father had also been a cop, a good one too. The Sergeant had gotten shot years ago under suspicious circumstances when John was a rookie.

Blake suspected that she was just like him, what she did wasn't just a job, she did it with all the same reverence as you would if you were lighting a candle for a loved one in church. Their job was a memorial to those they had lost.

"Everything okay?" Barbara had started the car and reversed out carefully in the darkness. "Are we still going down to OldTown tonight? Give those pimps a little scare."

"Yeah." He replied, snapping out of it. Usually when a police vehicle was parked in OldTown it was for seedy purposes. He knew that Barbara really got a kick out of arresting unsuspecting low-life's who were accustomed to the crooked majority of cops.

"I saw Commissioner Foley on the news this evening. Apparently the crime rate is dropping." She said as she manoeuvred though the city traffic.

"More like _reports _on crime is dropping."

She smiled, silently agreeing with him before changing the subject again, this was a habit. "Y'know I was thinking the other day, why is it_—_despite everything that happens to this city_—_why do we stay? What keeps us here?"

He thought for a moment as they drove down the dark streets that were sparsely populated with hunched shadows that hung near the alleys. It was a pretty good question. Just last month they had to get a new patrol car because the last one had more holes than a piece of Swiss cheese. "I don't know, maybe because I'm still hoping that things might get better." He took a drink of coffee. "Or, maybe it's just the fact I'd always feel like I had unfinished business here, it would always be in the back of my mind. What about you?"

As Gordon stopped at a red light she turned to him. "I guess you're right. If I left for Chicago tomorrow I'd feel like a quitter, y'know?"

"How's your Mom by the way?"

"Oh, she's okay. My brother moved up there recently so she feels a little better."

As she finished her sentence a shiny black SUV flew by in front of them, Gordon braked sharply as her light had just turned green. Both swore as coffee went over the dashboard and horns blasted behind them.

Officer Gordon turned the cruiser in the direction of the speeding black jeep as her partner already had the radio in his hand, advising dispatch of the direction it was heading. "Code thirty-three, we have a 657f. Over."

The siren was turned on as she hit the gas, speeding after the offending vehicle. It looked expensive, probably stolen.

* * *

Ten minutes had passed they were still in pursuit. Gordon was a good driver and she was driving as fast as the patrol car allowed but it wasn't enough. As usual, the back-up that Blake had requested was slow to come. This made them all the more eager to go after the suspicious 4x4. When the police was nowhere to be found when you needed them, you could be sure that something was up.

They were driving though the city at top speed now, the black jeep colliding with some cars as it roared through the streets while Barbara narrowly missed them as they spun out of control in its wake. Blake gave her a sideways glance as she sped though red lights and narrow streets, he couldn't help but hold his breath a little. She was in the zone; even if he told her to slow down she probably wouldn't hear him.

John knew this part of the city well and a plan had quickly formed as they sped through an intersection. "At the next turn, if he goes right, go left, I know a short cut. We can cut him off."

Before she could reply there was a loud smash along with the crumpling sound of metal. She broke hard, turning the wheel so hard she burnt rubber as they skidded to a halt.

The black SUV had been stopped for them; it had collided hard with a loaded truck. The front of the vehicle was wrapped around a wheel, it looked messy. They might need the fire department.

"Here. Call it in. I'll check if anyone is injured." He threw her the radio which she caught before getting out.

Barbara watched him wearily as she spoke into the radio. "95, b 415e. Over."  
A fuzzy voice replied in the dark car. "Go ahead."  
"At 1922. We have a collision. Code 3. Auto accident." She watched him from inside as Blake shone a flashlight through the darkened windows as she reported the situation.

"10-22 for now and I'll get the right officers to take it. 10-8." The radio static crackled before cutting off.

She got out, thankful that the streets were empty. She could re-direct traffic later. The rain had begun to drizzle over Gotham and she pulled up her coat collar closer to her neck. Blake had managed to get one door open and he shone his flashlight in to inspect the dark vehicle.

The officer peered at the three faces in the back, all unconscious in the light.

She climbed up to the truck door, opening it to find a shaken truck driver with a small head injury. She shone the flashlight before turning it off. "Are you okay, sir?"

"The-they came out of nowhere!"

"It's fine, sir. It wasn't your fault. An ambulance is on the way."

At this the driver grunted, incredulous. "In this town? I think I better start walking to hospital."

"Sir, please. Stay where you are…damn!" She looked over the drivers shoulder to see one of the apparently unconscious suspects in the SUV suddenly lunge at John before making a break for it.

Barbara jumped down, stealthily running around the truck in time to catch one of the men who was making a break for it. She came out from the shadows as her elbow made contact with his chest. The man retaliated with a poorly aimed punch to her shoulder before she socked him in the jaw, forcing him down to the ground before cuffing him and telling him his rights as he lay squirming before giving up. In one pocket she found a flick-knife.

As she pulled the culprit to his feet the welcome sight of red and blue lights came.

_Better late than never. _She thought bitterly.

She turned to see Blake with the driver_—_who was also now conscious_—_holding him against the vehicle as he searched him. The driver was carrying two handguns and a knife.

* * *

When backup arrived the four men were arrested and the wrecked vehicle was searched. The trunk had been full with an arsenal of weapons and ammunition while traces of blood had also been found.

It had been a productive night's work, for that there would be hell to pay tomorrow. They knew it as they stood, surrounded by their fellow officers. Most ignored them; some looked at them with pure contempt.

The Falcone crime family had been knocked off the top years ago. Maroni was now the name that put fear into hearts all over the city, and the guys they arrested and the loot they had uncovered were probably Maroni's men, Maroni's weapons, and Maroni's money.

"I think we're done here." He said as the two walked to their car, the rain getting heavier by the second. They stopped as they noticed that a senior officer was standing by their car, waiting for them. The man was hunched over and gave the impression that he had been a bear in another life.

"Corporal." Gordon greeted him with no expression.

"The Lieutenant's lookin' for you. Better get down there fast." He grunted in reply, sniffing in the freezing rain that ran down their faces. He gave each a shady glance before joining the last remaining officers as they evacuated the street.

They sat in the car soaking wet and in silence. Barbara was riding shotgun this time as she watched the water stream down the window. John was holding onto the steering wheel but hadn't started the engine. They sat like that for about a minute before Barbara broke the silence, wondering aloud about what the Lieutenant was going to say to them.

"If those weapons belonged to Maroni then we'll probably be suspended."

"And if they don't?"

"Does it make any difference? They'll put us in different departments either way."

This was the news that she had been dreading. Barbara sat in silence, wanting to speak her mind but she couldn't. It had been almost a year since they started working together, she liked him a lot.

_Dream on Gordon, _she shook her head, rationalizing her thoughts. _Why would he be interested in you? These feelings are just from the adrenaline, it's all in your head._

He started the cruiser. He didn't have to look at his partner to know that she was in deep thought. She was very chatty or totally silent, there was no in-between with her.

He couldn't deny that he wasn't attracted to her and she that was one of the few women he had ever met that he could properly talk to and empathise with. Meeting people was hard when you worked unsociable hours in an unsociable city; girls like Barbara were pretty rare here.

Slow nights on patrols were something that he had despised when starting out. Now he found himself desperately hoping for them as he began his shift when he got into the car each night. Those slow nights would be spent talking about anything and everything while keeping one ear listening to the radio. They would make fun of each other mercilessly, both laughing though the dreary early hours until morning. Then, after the shift was over and he had rolled into bed, he found himself thinking about her as he drifted into sleep those mornings. But what could he do? He was nearing thirty and didn't have a lot going for himself; you didn't get promotions for doing the right thing in Gotham, not these days. Although he thought she deserved someone better, but he would still miss her.

"If we get moved, I think I'll miss you Blakers." She smiled as she used the nickname; her sad blue eyes met his brown ones.

"Yeah, we had fun. But are you sure you'll miss the hair jokes, Gordy?" He replied, looking back at the traffic.

She rolled her eyes while shaking her head. Despite their best efforts sadness tinged their smiles.

* * *

A detective clocked her standing alone outside the Lieutenants office, her arms folded and facing the bile-coloured wall. He leered at the young officer appreciatively. Usually redheads weren't his thing, but he could see that this one had a great body once the coat was off. The doll was average height, small boned with plenty of curves that looked good in the blue uniform. He took in the sight of long legs, her ass, the belt that went around her small waist, and the suggestion of a great rack underneath the shirt and badge when she turned around. She looked at him with contempt as soon as she saw him.

"Now that you're a desk jockey," he scratched a fat stubbly cheek, "there's space for another desk beside mine." He shot over a sleazy smile.

O'Donnell was one of the worst for labelling her as some sort of "Badge Bunny". She sized him up as he grunted a laugh, imagining how she could beat him to a pulp if he tried anything. Sure, the detective had weight and height on his side, but she had speed, agility and the element of surprise. She would go for the gut first, pull back and block any heavy blows before ramming the heel of her palm into his nose so hard she would be able to feel and hear the crunch of cartilage. She felt herself twitch slightly in the anticipation, wanting to forcibly wipe that sickening smirk off his face. Those guys really brought out the worst in her.

"Hey, you're next." John was walking behind her, watching O'Donnell wearily as the overweight man drunk a cup of coffee while attempting to look innocent. "Everything okay?" Unseen from O'Donnell's view, he touched one of her tense shoulder blades reassuringly. Dogs like O'Donnell always lay in wait for the moment that the two were separated. Blake knew that now he would have to watch his own back again, Gordon too. They wouldn't have each other to rely on anymore.

Rage seeped away now that Blake was beside her and the voice of reason regained its volume as she gave O'Donnell one last threatening look before turning on her heel and walking into the office, ready for the worst.

O'Donnell looked at Blake with jeering eyes, inwardly laughing. "Did ya have a good night, brother?" His voice was suggestive; John now understood why Barbara always complained that he made her skin crawl.

He stood his ground as the older cop leaned against the wall; O'Donnell's pink face was always shiny with perspiration. "I'm not your brother." John replied.

He left before O'Donnell could make any disgusting remarks. He wasn't exactly in a patient and lenient mood tonight.

* * *

The Lieutenant waited for Gordon in his office. He considered this to be like gardening. The late Sergeant Gordon had been plucked many years ago but these fools were weeds. You pull one up and two more grow in its place. But tonight he had the perfect excuse to divide and then conquer. Blake had been easy to handle before; he did what he was told while keeping his hands clean. It made people uneasy but he was no rat. Then a rookie who turned out to be Jim Gordon's kid came along and he got bolder, they went around with no respect for the people who owned the city from the shadows- the mob were pissed and it was his nuts that were in the vice.

He was giving them both a phoney disciplinary but he knew there was only one way to short this mess out. It wasn't the first time he had done this, he knew who to call.

As Gordon stepped in, he gave her a steely look. She stood in dignified silence, politely defiant as she waited to hear her sentence.

* * *

They sat in the all-night diner, off duty. It was four in the morning and the city was still asleep. Both sat talking and reminiscing, leaving their food mainly untouched.

"Do you remember the time we got that noise complaint in the East End?"

Barbara laughed a little as she remembered that eventful night while shaking her head. "Those guys! They were so convinced we were strippers, even when we were searching the place! That was the easiest arrest I ever made…" She rolled her eyes before picking at her food some more.

Blake suddenly felt like he needed something stronger than coffee. "Is it too late or early for a beer right now?"

She thought about it, an elbow resting on the table. "Both, I think. But I actually wouldn't mind one myself. I think we deserve it."

They left their money on the table and left. At four in the morning it was almost like they were the only people in the whole darkened city.

* * *

**I don't know what this is but I needed something to distract myself from life in general at the moment. Hope it's not too confusing.**

**If you read my other story and you are all "Y u no update?", it's writers block. Wait, I'm not even a writer... A sort-of-writers-block.**

**Part two is mostly finished and will be posted soon-ish.**

**Peace.**

**I hope the whole alternate universe thing isn't too weird, right?**


	2. Chapter 2

The two arrived at his humble apartment that was situated in a moderately shabby part of the city.

The furniture was sparse and second-hand, much like her own bland crumbling apartment. She had been here a few times but never for long. "Nothing has changed since the last time I was here." She reached for the bobble that held her thick waves back, letting her hair tumble loose.

"I guess your right." He replied.

After throwing her heavy coat on a chair with a sigh, Barbara followed him into the tiny kitchen as he proceeded to search a small refrigerator for two beers. "What will we toast to? Our glittering careers?"

She grimaced as she took a bottle. "How about, 'here's to a future that won't get us killed…'"

"By our colleagues." He finished, clinking his glass with hers.

As they each took a drink in the tiny kitchen, a slight quake constantly reverberated through her body, making her feel restless and fidgety. It took all of her control not to let her hand shake as she clutched the cold glass bottle.

_What are you doing?_ She thought to herself, suddenly feeling slightly uncomfortable. She blinked as her eyes began to grow heavy. She raked her hair back with her fingers. "I should be going, get a good rest before our last patrol."

He nodded.

She put down her beer on the worktop, adding in a cowboy drawl, "See ya around, partner." She stepped forward to hug him a friendly goodbye; they were just two pals who worked together. It was amazing how close you got to someone when you were dodging bullets together, it was somewhere between being best friends and being an old married couple.

"Yeah." He replied.

But it didn't feel that way when they were chest to chest.

Her heart raced a little in his embrace, blood rushing to her head as she tried to breathe slowly with her raised chin rested on his shoulder. She hoped he wouldn't notice the palpitations. Arms wrapped around each other, neither let go. The city outside was so silent it was almost eerie.

When it got too long to be just a friendly hug and her mind was a blur of thought, wondering what to do next and wondering what to do when it inevitably ended.

He held her, suddenly realizing how long it had been since he had physical contact with another person. It felt nice and he was reluctant to let go as she felt so warm and soft, waiting for her to pull away first. The warm feeling took over with the tiredness and he felt himself switch off for the first time in a long time.

Her mind suddenly went blank; instinct took over with meditative clarity. She wouldn't let herself be a coward anymore.

They pulled apart slightly, and she kissed him before she allowed reason to intervene. It was nerve-racking and tentative for a few seconds before both were certain that it was mutual. Once this had been silently determined, neither heisted.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, almost on tiptoe. She hadn't noticed that he had been gradually pushing her backwards until she felt the kitchen worktop gently pressing into the small of her spine. She couldn't help but feel surprised as her soon-to-be-ex-partner_—_who was normally the reserved and self-controlled one_—_ had one hand holding her face in place while the other slowly slid down the contours of her body. She briefly thought about breathing as she could feel herself being lifted slightly onto the worktop. Without stopping, he kissed her while holding nothing back.

It was like snapping awake when he felt her legs wrapping around his waist. He had been in a dream-like trance and he realized with sudden shock that what he was doing really was happening. Eyes now open, he immediately paused and let go of her. She opened her bright eyes, watching him and looking suddenly reluctant as she saw his face. "What is it?" She asked it with suspicion in her voice. She took her hands off his shoulders and put them behind her to sit upright on the counter with her head against the cupboards.

He couldn't find the right words as he looked at her weary flushed face. "We shouldn't." He said solemnly.

She glowered at him, whatever emotion she was feeling, it quickly turned to anger, looking at the ground as she spoke. "Then why did you let me do that?" Her voice was low and even despite her annoyance. "You should've stopped me before_—_" She was ready to slide off the worktop but he stood where he was, her feet didn't touch the ground. She could've pushed him away but she waited, she doubted that she could stand even if she wanted to. She looked up to see his conflicted emotions. For once they were clear to see on his face. Her scowl disappeared as they looked at each other. Neither of them needed to say anything more. They knew each other too well.

They came together this time clear headed, with calm purpose. It felt like the beginning of something that was fragile and hard to grasp, like a memory of something imagined that was forgotten a long time ago.

* * *

The midday beams had found its way to her closed eyes, shining brightly and determined to wake her.

Her first thoughts came slowly before reality pushed away the last remnants of her eventless dreams to the back of her mind. Her eyes almost refused to open as she painfully sat upright on the couch, fully clothed. She tried hard to remember who fell asleep first but it had probably been pretty close. Her right cheek was slightly pink and indented from sleeping on the arm of the sofa.

She looked over at him on the other side of the threadbare couch, sleeping with a serious expression.

She suddenly remembered how he was when she has first started working with him, remembering his constant coldness and reprimands. She had initially disliked him but as the weeks went by and their near death experiences became regular, they put aside all their prejudices.

She smoothed a stray piece of his hair to the right side as he slept, making it neat like always before deciding to leave a note before leaving. A tiny part of her wanted to watch him sleep, but it seemed too sentimental and corny. A world-weary cop couldn't simply transform into some love-struck romantic overnight. There would be plenty of time for that later.

A newspaper lay abandoned on the floor and she picked it up to fold it neatly and put it away. The large headline was about the clown thief—one of the few criminals that they were allowed to apprehend if given the chance. But here was also a picture in the corner of the paper that got her attention. Thomas and Martha Wayne, wrinkled and smiling were pictured with some children, donating money to some worthy cause. Those nice rich people did their best, but Gotham was beyond repair. Something drastic needed to be done, like burning it to the ground until there was nothing left but ash. Even if they donated a billion dollars to various causes they wouldn't ever scratch the surface.

She got up with a sudden purpose, for the first time in a long while she knew exactly where she was going and why.

A pen and black notebook was in her breast pocket and she tore out a page, hastily writing while her head still swam, not entirely sure if it was even legible. She left it, took her coat, looked back one more time, before quietly leaving.

* * *

It was late afternoon when she reached the cemetery to say goodbye to the only person she had left to leave behind here.

"Hey Dad."

She stood in jeans and a coat as she surveyed the familiar headstone, swiping away fallen slick leaves that had stuck to the polished granite. "How's things? I hope you have enough coffee up there." She paused a little, feeling her eyes sting already as the cold breeze blew through her hair. But talking like this felt right_—_the cemetery was deserted and light splitting through dark clouds seemed like a sign he was listening. She imagined her dad telling her from above to get to the point. He was always kind, but direct.

"Do you remember a guy called John Blake?" She paused before continuing. "He was a rookie when you where around… I might've mentioned him now and then on my visits. He's a good guy, Dad. Like you." Her voice broke slightly, letting a tear roll down her face for the first time in years. "He likes me Daddy, he really likes me. I never thought he did but now I'm pretty sure he does." She stifled a sob as her throat closed up, letting the suppressed emotions roll over her like large, heavy waves before recovering, telling herself to man up. "We're leaving tomorrow morning." Her voice was level again. "I just wanted to say goodbye and make sure that your flowers weren't dropping, y'know?" She looked at the wild flowers that had sprouted, waving in the cold early spring breeze. She turned to go before adding something. "You're still my hero, Dad. You always had been. If only there had been more people in this city like you. I_—_I tried but it wasn't enough. I'm sorry Daddy. I'll see you soon, okay?" She walked away, fiercely drying her eyes.

The bare trees waved their farewells as she left to box what was left of her pitiful amount of belongings.

* * *

"Where's the Luitentant?"

The man who was sitting behind the desk carried on writing, checking his computer screen before writing some more. With an irritated sigh he looked up at the young officer who looked prettier than usual, maybe even beautiful. She had two letters in her hand.

"He's not here Gordon. Try again tomorrow"

_I won't be here tomorrow_. She thought with irritation.

"Then can I leave these with you? He has to get them as soon as possible."

He took the letters and shoved them into a pile of papers that littered the desk. "There. Is there anything else, your majesty?"

She reached over and whipped the letters out of the pile, placing them on the top. The man shot her a look of annoyance. "Nope, that's all." She replied, walking out. It felt good to know that she would soon be rid of all the bullshit she had to put up with over the last year.

* * *

They sat in the car, waiting in their usual spot. It was one in the morning. She thought how different everything was twenty-four hours ago. Last night they were sitting as colleagues, tonight her stomach was in knots. They hadn't even called each other by their first names or so much as flirted, but she felt something like electric as they sat, occasionally talking about general things while listening to the police scanner.

She had made an effort to look nice tonight; when she left her apartment she almost didn't recognize herself. She was usually pale and ordinary, not bright and glowing.

She looked at her watch, there was only three hours to go. Then they would get out of this place.

She took a sip of coffee, listening to the fuzzy voices as she looked out at the dark night. She involuntarily smiled a little as she remembered the look on his face when he saw her earlier. His smile had turned into a stare as she got closer, then looking a little dazed he got into the car without another word. _Wait until he sees what I'm wearing underneath the uniform. _Just thinking about it made her purse her lips so she didn't smile.

Suddenly something on the radio caught their attention.

* * *

They drove downtown before stopping at the deserted part they had been called out to.

"Are they sure that this is the street?" It was a dead end with only one dim light that shone from afar. High fences that were once electric surrounded the boarders of the old road. She couldn't help but instinctively feel uneasy because she couldn't see what was beyond the dark fences.

"I'll ask." He looked over, smiling at her grim face in the dim light. "Why so worried?"

Her frown turned to a sheepish smile, and she dropped her tense shoulders. Despite everything, she was still a rookie who was used to being laughed at on the job because of her inexperience and unease. She replied with an eyebrow raised. "I hope you don't plan on la_—_"

Deafening noise hit the car with metal hale and the bullets hit the screen as they both doubled-over, hands over their heads. The car shook with the battering, the front sparked as their headlights went out. One window shattered and broke completely.

Silence, then waiting for death as the sound of heavy gunfire echoed in their ears.

Seconds were hours as they waited, she was ridged with fear.

Neither one took a single breath. He looked over the wheel to see the windscreen was cracked, but he didn't see anyone in the darkness. He was about to try his luck and reverse but lights suddenly beamed brightly from behind them, blocking any means of escape. Dread now settled in his stomach. They were cornered with nowhere to go. This was it.

She turned; head ducking down to see them too. Four, maybe five, pairs of lights that blocked the exit. She got out her radio as a last resort, beginning to urgently request for back up. Her heart was pounding as she looked for him in the darkness, desperate to see a reassuring face. She waited for a reply on the silent radio before repeating herself, knowing that they had five minutes at the very most. Her speech hurried and paused as she gulped for ragged breaths to appease her racing heart. There was no voice from the radio; the white noise of the static was her only reply. She tried again for a third time.

"Barbara." She was silent in the darkness. She understood and nothing more needed to be said. Someone had wanted them gone for good. They should have known that. They had taken their eye off the ball for a second and were now going to pay. They were trapped and now waiting for death. That's all there was now.

They were being watched; they couldn't run as there were high fences surrounding them. They would get shot down.

The short rattle of slugs came from behind. Only three shots, like a warning. Shooting back would be useless and a waste of the seconds they had left.

He felt a cold hand reach for his as they kept their heads down despite the fact that it was inevitable. This was their guillotine, their electric chair, their firing squad. Eyes dry and teeth gritted they were only sad for each other's fate, while stoically accepting their own.

Doubts about death had been put aside, their questions soon answered.

The final shower of metallic rain was their cue.


	3. Chapter 3

His crinkled eyes squinted in the bright spring midday sun, surveying the car that had parked its last in some dissipated wasteland. He was amazed that they had been discovered at all.

He looked through the broken windows, the cracks shone a little.

Two white waxworks sat frozen, sitting upright with drooping heads like rag-dolls. The female's brick-red hair and blood was vibrant against the grayness of the scene. Blood that belonged to her colleague was dry and flaked across her white sleeping face.

He talked, mostly to himself as he observed. "Two bodies, shot multiple times—probably happened at around one or two in the morning." He looked closely at the male officer through the cracked window. Someone must've checked make certain that they were dead. "The male was probably shot once though the chest at close range."

His younger colleague called for him, lifting the tape as he briskly walked over in white. "Hey, the boss says that we can keep any valuables."

He nodded, immediately understanding that his job had already been done here. When "the boss" told them that evidence was up for grabs, it usually meant that a report had been written before the event. In this case, two cops got caught in crossfire between rival gangs. Regardless of the truth, they all had to go along with it.

But something about the two in the car pulled at his dormant conscience today. He felt a little remorse when he thought about how their truth would never be known, whatever it was. They didn't look like they deserved it. Although looks could be deceiving_—_there was something that looked wholesome about the two, despite the fact that they were now covered in blood.

"Uh, we have a problem."

He looked over, feeling slightly lightheaded. He had been imagining how slow their deaths had probably been since the car took most of the bullets force. Empathy was an annoying trait at a time like this. He replied. "What?"

"They're stuck together sir."

"_What_?"

He knew that the rigor mortis had kicked in about twelve hours ago but he didn't understand how they could be stuck.

"They were holding hands when they died." The younger colleague looked back at the silent pair as if they would protest. "Will I call for some tools?"

He told himself that he had been doing this job for a long time. "Whatever you think. You don't have to ask me." He replied wearily.

He had seen it all. Decapitations, brutal murders, and faces what had frozen twisted expressions because they had been screaming in their final moments_—why were his guts shriveling in that strange grief today? He had seen worse._ Maybe he just needed a break.

"Sir, I found some things."

He was handed a small box and opened it. He could pawn it for a few dollars, he focused on the money. They didn't need it anymore, they were dead. He didn't know them.

More evidence was in the younger man's hand.

"What's that?"

"Oh, it's just a note and their guns. Both fully loaded. They didn't try to retaliate."

He unravelled the piece of paper with gloved hands; it was little stuck together with dried brown blood at the corner.

The letter had been written hastily, the handwriting was looped, irregular and obviously hurried.

_Hey. I've gone home to sleep some more and then pack my things._

_Last night we had talked about why we'll never leave Gotham. Until now I've been willing to risk my life for this city, but not anymore. _

_I confess that I've been a coward until now, emotionally. I had told myself that it was just adrenaline and the thrill of the chase but the truth was I was just terrified that my feelings were one-sided, I guess I still am._

_So— if this is mutual— let's both be selfish. We can hand in our badges after we finish our last shift, pack our bags, pay our rent and get the first train out of here. _

_Call me so I know what the answer is._

_X_

He cursed himself for being curious. He doubted that he'd sleep tonight with this rattling around in his head.

"I'm taking a break." He said with a sigh.

"What about the ring?" The younger of the two was unaffected by the event that had taken place. "If it's valuable we could pawn and split?"

"I doubt it, but yeah." His voice was a whisper as he left to find the nearest bar.

They were dead.

They were tomorrow's dust.

They were tomorrow's young and hopeful dust.

* * *

**Fin.**


End file.
